A Good Man
by Alicester the Trickster
Summary: Lizzie wasn't looking for perfection. She didn't need a Romeo with grand declarations of love or a charming rogue like Rhett Butler to sweep her off her feet. She just wanted a good man who loved her and she loved in return. She had thought she had found him. Now she wondered if she had it wrong all along. LBD Verse


**Author's Note**: I know my story will probably be canon-balled soon but I wanted to post it anyway. Set after the series because sometimes the hardest part of being in love is dealing with the relationship.

**Beta-Reader**: NotAContrivance - Thanks for being so amazing! You didn't just edit my story; you pushed me to _improve _my writing.

**Summary: **Lizzie wasn't looking for perfection. She didn't need a Romeo with grand declarations of love or a charming rogue like Rhett Butler to sweep her off her feet. She just wanted a good man who loved her and she loved in return. She had thought she had found him. Now she wondered if she had it wrong all along.

* * *

A Good Man

* * *

She could feel them fracturing more each day. It started with little things. Shorter lunch dates, longer working hours. Less smiles at one another and more apologies for missed encounters. In the beginning when things were new and fresh—when Darcy was hesitant and she was shy—he sent her flowers. Large ostentatious arrangements that took up a third of her desk and blocked half her field of vision. The bouquets varied each week. He only sent roses twice: once for her birthday and the second time for their first Valentine's Day together.

Walking in on a dreary Monday morning at 6 a.m. to find her vase filled with flowers brightened Lizzie's day. It became a ritual that she looked forward to each week. Her officemates used to tease her about how she was the only person in the building who was thrilled at the _start_ of a workweek. While Lizzie told William repeatedly he didn't _need _to send her flowers every week, he would just smile in the small private way reserved just for her and say he wanted to.

It had been over a month since the last bouquet came.

William Darcy was a busy man. So she understood. He had been selecting the flower arrangements himself and that took time out of his day he didn't have to spare. While they avoided talking shop outside of work, Lizzie had heard from the rumor mill that Pemberley Digital was working on a possible merger with a new and upcoming company. She couldn't fault him for stopping the ritual. She was the one who told him repeatedly it was unnecessary. So she wasn't upset. Not really.

And yet by the time week three was transitioning into week four and no flowers appeared, a small dose of disappointment had crept into her heart. She kept the last batch of flowers until they dried out in the hopes that a new set would come as a replacement. Eventually the stems became twisted and withered in their decay. By the time Lizzie finally brought herself around to throwing the flowers out, they were brittle, and the petals crumbled in her hands.

She tried to ignore the symbolism.

William still loved her.

She knew that. She reminded herself that William Darcy was resolute; nothing swayed him once his mind was decided. He did love her. Sometimes she just wished he was able to show it better.

Lizzie wasn't a clingy person.

She didn't need to hang off his arm whenever they went out. She didn't stoop to begging or pleading to convince him to focus more of his attention on her. But William was less demonstrative than she. He rarely initiated physical contact. He didn't kiss her in public or hold hands or do any of the things that tell the world that he is a man in love with a woman. At most, he would place a steady hand on her back as he escorted her. Jane thought he was just being a gentleman, a product of his upbringing. Lydia was still surprised that they were still dating after six months.

Actually, Lydia was surprised they started dating at all.

A year ago when Lizzie knew William less and misunderstood him more, she would have been shocked at the thought too. Now though, she feared she was head over heels in love with him just as he was falling out of love with her.

She could live without flowers, with shortened dates and longer hours at the office, but she refused to be in a relationship where she felt unloved and unwanted. The last two weeks, William was back to acting like his old aloof self. The few stolen moments they actually had together were plagued by his distracted attitude. Last week, she had tried stopping by his office over her lunch break to bring him sandwiches and have a mini-date but he claimed he didn't even have 15 minutes to spare. She left feeling hurt and slightly embarrassed.

He had apologized later for dismissing her so soon but after hearing so many excuses and apologies, the words were beginning to feel a bit hollow.

Tonight had been the final straw.

They had been out to dinner. It was supposed to have been a date night, a chance to finally have some time to themselves out of the office and away from their well-meaning but nosy friends and family. Lizzie had worn a new dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Then she spent nearly an hour wrangling her straight hair into an array of curls.

William had smiled when he picked her up and kept sneaking glances at her in the car like a high school prom date. She would have teased him about it, but sometimes he would just look at her in a certain way, and she felt like a sixteen year with her first crush all over again.

They were headed to a new French restaurant that Gigi had tried the week before and recommended. The pair had barely breached the lobby when they ran smack dab into some members of the board of directors from Burton Electronics, the very company Pemberley Digital was considering for a merger.

A part of Lizzie wondered if Darcy had planned it that way. Everything seemed too coincidental: a chance meeting, the willingness of the wait staff to change their reservation from two to seven, even the way her normally "agoraphobic" boyfriend readily agreed to the arrangements even raised her suspicions.

In the end, their dinner date devolved into a working dinner before she could protest.

Lizzie sat quietly stewing during the majority of the meeting. At first, the board members had tried including her in the conversation once they learned that she worked for Pemberley. Eventually they gave up. The fact remained she only worked for the video marketing department. Making quirky videos was interesting and entertaining, but she knew nothing about things like stocks and investments.

It was like she didn't even speak their same language. Most of their conversation delved into numbers and revenues and flew over her head, which did little to improve her mood. Normally she would have pasted on a smile and tried to play nice like Charlotte and Jane liked to remind her to do, but it had been their first date in weeks. She was wearing a brand new, tight-fitting red dress, and her boyfriend apparently thought spreadsheets and market shares held more appeal.

Somewhere around the second course she realized she was being slightly petty. She was an adult and as much as she was pissed at William for putting in her in this situation, it was already done. Resolving to yell at him later, Lizzie politely excused herself to the bathroom to recompose herself. When she came back, she was smiling wide enough to make her face hurt but ready to play nice.

She was nearly to the table when she heard them. The men her boyfriend was sitting with were laughing rancorously. At first she was curious, wondering what punch line or joke could have them laughing so hard. Judging by the pinched expressions of the people seated in the nearby tables, the joke might have been slightly off-color. Curious as to what had entertained them so, she discretely snuck forward.

The few words and small snippets of conversation that she caught made her regret her decision. It didn't take her long to understand the men were indeed ribbing Darcy. And they were doing so about her. They spoke of crude and unkind comments. Open curiosity about how someone as young and beautiful as Lizzie came to work for Pemberley.

Frank questions about how far she was willing to go to rise higher in the company.

And Darcy just sat there saying nothing. Her boyfriend of half a year had turned to stone. He didn't even bother to defend her or attempt to change the conversation. And that hurt the most. After the George fiasco, she just wanted someone who was open and honest. She didn't perfection. She didn't need a Romeo with grand declarations of love or a charming rogue like Rhett Butler to sweep her off her feet. She just wanted a good man who loved her and she loved in return. She had thought she had found him. Now she's wondered if she had it wrong all along.

Lizzie stood on four-inch-heels, hurt and trembling. Suddenly, she no longer felt stunning in her new dress but _exposed_. She had to leave. A part her wanted to just dart out the door but something drove her to walk back to their table - a sick and twisted desire to test if those men would dare degrade her to her face. She stretched her lips into a semblance of a smile and made her way over.

When the group noticed her approach, the conversation abruptly ceased. She looked at her boyfriend for a hint of something to show he was as disgusted as she was. She wanted him to rise from the table. She wanted him to slam down his fists in fury that they would dare speak about her in such a way. Instead he just sat there. He didn't even look at her.

_DarcyBot malfunction. DarcyBot malfunction._

A piece of her heart broke in that moment.

Hands fisted at her sides to hide their trembling, she made her apologies. Lizzie claimed some nonsense about feeling ill. Darcy didn't question her or even protest her abrupt departure. The only comment he made was a question about how she would get home since she had ridden with him. She assured him she would catch a cab and he simply nodded. Normally, he would have pressed her to take the car home since he insisted it wasn't safe waiting for cabs at night. Normally if she felt ill at all, he would have insisted in attending to her himself until she felt well again. Tonight though, she would say he almost looked relieved by her unexpected departure. Perhaps he thought with her gone, he would be able to run the business deal more smoothly. She hoped it was worth it. He would close the deal but he was losing her in the process.

And then when she leaned down to give him a quick kiss goodbye, he tilted his head away. Her soft kiss landed high on his cheek. She took in a sharp breath. It was true he never initiated public displays of affection, but he had never shied away from them so abruptly before. Taking in an unsteady breath, she fled.

By the Lizzie arrived at the apartment they shared, she was shaking with tears and anger. She stumbled over to the cabinet and poured herself a hearty helping of wine. It was the cheap stuff she kept around when Lydia would visit. The kind that made William wrinkle his nose when he smelled it. She took another sip and choked on a sob.

His Aunt Catherine had been right. She had found out about their relationship not three months in. The old lady had insisted it was doomed to failure. William disagreed. It was one of the few times she had seen _anyone _disagree with Ms. Catherine de Bourgh and he had stood toe to toe with her and sworn nothing would tear them apart. She closed her eyes, pressing a hand over her lips to try to stifle the sound of her cries. She had believed him then. She had believed _in _him.

But now Lizzie knew better. The old bat had been right.

There was no way she could live like this. Whether or not Darcy still "cared" for her was irrelevant. She refused to be with anyone who felt so shamed by being with her that they wouldn't even utter a word to defend her. She couldn't live with someone who valued business above people. She wiped away her tears. She was breaking up with him. Tonight.

Lizzie worked up a plan. An attack of all the horrible things he had done and what she would say. She was great at improvisation, but she _excelled_ at debate. She rehearsed it over and over again. She wanted to hurt him as much as the men tonight had hurt her. She wanted him to feel the same pain that she had gone through.

But one thing bothered her. It lingered in the back of her mind. What she couldn't figure out was if he truly no longer loved her, why hadn't he just broken up with her already? Had he wanted to end the relationship before but simply didn't know how? She set the glass down on countertop. If Darcy wanted an out in the relationship, she was more than happy to give it to him.

He texted her around an hour later to say he had to go into the office and that he would return later than expected. She poured herself a second glass of wine and waited.

Lizzie briefly considered packing a bag. She wondered what he would think if he came back to find her gone and her belongings missing, but Darcy was the one who did wrong; he should be the one to leave. Not to mention, this was _her_ place. Lizzie had found it first. She even paid half the rent, a fact she insisted on when he tricked her into moving in together after two short months of dating.

Technically William still maintained a separate residence, but he hadn't used it for months now and only sparingly used it once they began exploring the more physical side of their relationship. Eventually they gave up the charade of maintaining separate residences. When he had finally moved in, William wanted to pay all the rent, but Lizzie refused. His offer had been sweet, but she had her pride.

She sniffled. Now her pride was the only thing she had left. She set down the glass of wine and headed to the bedroom. Snagging one of his black travel suitcases, she began ransacking the dresser to stuff his clothes inside. She deliberately chose not to fold anything. She tossed them in. She even balled up a few shirts to shove down in the corner to prove her point.

Darcy was obsessively neat. He abhorred wrinkles. One time she joked about an imaginary wrinkle on his sleeve, and he had changed shirts by the afternoon. She had teased him relentlessly for weeks about it. Imagining him spending hours re-ironing his clothes was only a small satisfaction for how the night had gone. When she finished, she hauled out the bag and set it by the couch. She wanted it to be the first thing he saw when he walked in.

Without her vlog she couldn't let off steam as easily anymore. She thought about calling Jane, but she was still in New York. The time difference would be brutal. While her bestie Charlotte would be more than willing to drop whatever she was doing to talk, Lizzie didn't want someone to play devil's advocate. Charlotte had the annoying knack for always seeing things from the other person's perspective. She didn't need that right now. Not tonight.

Lizzie slumped down on the couch to wait.

An hour later, she was fast asleep.

Lizzie was being held. Her mind felt fuzzy from the alcohol and the gentle carrying motion that had woken her up was hypnotic and soothing. But eventually she remembered being held was wrong. "Don't touch me," she snapped sluggishly from somewhere near his collarbone.

"I'm just putting you in bed. Your neck will be sore in the morning if you continue sleeping in that position."

Her neck was already sore, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "Put me down," she growled, trying to shift away from him. However, he was stronger and continued to hold her securely to his broad chest.

"Once you're in bed," he calmly replied.

William was always calm. About everything. Out of everything, she hated that the most about him. Normal people weren't so ridiculously calm all the damn time.

"I am _not_ sleeping in the same bed as you," she snapped.

He hesitated there; she could feel the pause in his step. Her lips curled into a bitter smile. One point for her.

"I am sleeping on the couch?"

She huffed, "You're not sleeping here at all."

This time he was better prepared and didn't pause in his movements. They were in the bedroom now; he was using the light outside the window to guide his steps. "I see. So we are fighting."

She snorted as he gently set her in bed. She noticed that the blankets had already been turned down the way she liked. William must have done it before he went to retrieve her. Sometimes he could be very sweet. Still, she hardened her heart and scooted over on the bed to be out of his reach. "**We **are not fighting," she said with saccharine sweetness, "because you're leaving."

He straightened. "This is because of our date tonight."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "What date?" she scoffed.

William swallowed, "I should have apologized sooner-"

"Save it," she said, turning over. "You just need to pack up the rest of your stuff. I got one bag already started for you."

"Rest of my… Are you breaking up with me?"

His voice was hurt and confused, and that wasn't fair. He was the one who had changed, not her. He was the one whose feelings had wavered; he was the one who didn't love her anymore. He had no right to feel hurt.

"Ding, Ding, Ding," she said, "one point for the DarcyBot."

Her anger had faded, leaving only disappointment in its wake. She wanted him to leave before she started crying. She buried her face in the soft pillow and closed her eyes. It hurt too much to look at him.

"But why?"

Her eyes opened, and she lurched upright. Gripping one of her pillows, she swung it at him. "How can you even ask me that?" she said, swatting him with the pillow. He didn't even raise up an arm to block her and, for some reason, that made her angrier. So she hit him again. "How can you even _ask_ me that after tonight?"

"I tried to apologize for our da-"

"It's not just about tonight," she said. "It's everything."

He sat on the side of bed. She scooted over warily. She kept the pillow close at hand in case she needed to use it on him again. "Everything," he said, "is quite extensive."

"Well, it's a long list," she snapped.

"I would like to hear it."

"What good would it do?" she said muffling her words into the pillow on her lap.

"I think I deserve to know why you're breaking up with me." He shuddered, looking out the open bedroom doorway. No doubt his eyes had finally noticed the suitcase she had left out there for him. "Because I very much do not want to break up with you."

"Could have fooled me."

"And what does that mean?" he asked. He turned his intense blue eyes back on her. The moonlight on his face cast a striking image that made her chest ache. Getting over him was going to be harder than she imagined. Even with his stuffy airs and ineptitude at small talk he somehow managed to stumble his way into her heart. She looked away.

"Lizzie," he said again, softer, "what do you mean?"

She sniffled but didn't answer. Instead, she laid back down and tucking the pillow close to her chest. "You should go," she said quietly. She could feel the burn of tears forming in her eyes and a tightness in her chest that swelled into an unbearable ache each time she breathed. He was so close, and it hurt so much.

"May I at least ask why you're breaking up with me?"

"No," she said, fighting back tears as she curled up tighter when she heard the b-word slip from his lips. "If you have to ask, then you don't deserve to know."

He sighed as if waiting to see if she would change her mind. She pressed her trembling lips together. She should have known it wouldn't work between them from the beginning. He wasn't the robot she first mistook him for, but that didn't mean he was good at relationships. He rose from the bed and walked over to the other side where he normally slept. When he pulled back his side of the blankets, she squawked.

"I said you're not sleeping here!"

"I heard you the first time," he said, "even though you didn't explain why."

"So what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I am grabbing some necessities."

He removed his pillow from his side of the bed and picked up the coverlet she had already kicked off.

"You're not sleeping on the couch in my apartment either," she reminded.

"I heard that as well," he said, tucking the pillow under his arm, "and while I fully intend to protest the dissolution of our relationship, now is not the time. You are tired and need to rest."

"Then where are you going with the pillow and blanket?"

"Outside your door."

She picked her head up off the pillow. "What?" she said, "You can't be serious. Just go back to your apartment."

"I refuse to leave this unresolved. If I head back to my apartment, I run the risk of you avoiding me. The hallway will suffice for one evening. It is a safe building, and I am certain the doorman would prevent any untoward characters from entering."

"That's insane!" she protested, "Darcy, you can't sleep in the hallway."

"On the contrary, while I will respect your wishes to remove me from your bed and even the apartment itself, though you won't explain why, you do not own the hallway. I can sleep there."

"So you can catch me when I leave?" she squeaked.

"Indeed. I fear it will be the only time I will have to convince you to explain your reasoning behind your inexplicable desire to break up."

She huffed and laid back down. This time she made sure to keep facing him. While it would hurt to watch him leave, she wanted to make sure he actually did go. Once he was out that door, she was throwing the deadbolt across it. Simply locking the door would only do so much when he had the key, but the deadbolt would stop him.

"I'm not going to pity you when you wake up with a sore neck in the morning. In fact, I might just stay in all day tomorrow, so you might as well go back home."

"This _is_ my home," he reminded her.

"Not anymore," she said quietly.

It took a moment for him to speak. Her breath hitched as she waited. "Tomorrow is Sunday," he reminded her, "you'll have to go grocery shopping at some point."

She had forgotten about that. Her fridge and cupboards were practically bare. If she didn't go grocery shopping tomorrow, she wouldn't have time to do so until the following weekend.

"I could just sneak out the window and head down the fire escape."

He paused, glancing at the window. "I see," he said carefully. "I hadn't considered that."

He turned back to her. "Should I sleep there instead?"

She threw the remaining covers off her body. "Why don't you just leave?" she shouted, rising to her feet, "I don't care where you go or where you sleep. Just leave me alone."

He inhaled sharply at her outburst. His blue eyes studied her for a moment so intensely it felt like his gaze could see under her skin and into her heart. She wondered what he saw there. Did he know how much pain he had caused her? Did he even care anymore?

Then he nodded, and the spell was broken. Still carrying his pillow and the comforter, he headed to the door.

Let him leave, she thought.

"Just tell me one thing," she said instead as her body unwillingly trailed after him. "Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

He half-turned to face her. "What would you like me to tell you?"

"Not now," she said, waving a hand. "Earlier."

It took a moment for him to make connection. "At dinner."

She sniffled then nodded once.

He set down the pillow and comforter on the edge of the couch and turned to face her. He brought his arms together behind his back. "I'm home nearly two hours later than I planned. Do you know why?"

"I figured you'd want to buddy it up with your new friends," she spat. She knew as the CEO of a large company, he sometimes had to delay their time together because of work, but she never imagined that he would permit people badmouthing her in order to endear himself to others.

"They are not now nor will they ever be my friends." His voice was sharp and had dropped into the deeper, flat tone she hadn't heard from him since their disastrous first meeting. "Those men _were_ the board of directors for Burton Electronics."

"Were?"

He took a moment and then nodded once sharply. "They'll find that the majority percentage of their stock has recently been acquired."

"I don't understand," she said, rubbing a tired hand over her face. "What are you _saying_?"

"I'm saying I own them."

She blinked. His voice was still sharp, but it was his expression that caught her off guard. It was the same tight expression he was wearing at the restaurant when she returned to the dinner table. "Why?" she asked in a small voice.

"Because they hurt you," William said, taking a measured step towards her. "And I am not a good man."

So their comments had upset him. "But why do all this?" she said, waving a hand. "Why not just confront them at dinner and tell them off then? Did you not want to cause a scene?"

"Because my words would mean nothing to men like that. Men like that only understand two things in this world: money and power. By acquiring their company out from under them, I will rob them of the things that they love most."

"Because they were mean?"

"Because they hurt _you_," he clarified.

"And then what?" she said.

"Once the acquisition is finalized, their employment will be terminated."

She sucked in a breath. "Are you serious?"

"Completely."

"I mean, yeah, they were dicks. But taking away their jobs? You don't think that's taking it a little too far?"

"No," he said, "If they were willing to speak so crassly with me after just two meetings, then they have done it before. My private investigator will unearth every secret they thought they left behind and bury them with it."

"But Darcy, that's…"

His head dipped as if the hesitance in her words were a chastisement of his actions. "Just because you are forgiving does not mean I will be. As it stands, I regret there isn't any more I can do to punish them."

She smiled a small half-smile and reached out to touch his shoulder. It was a light touch, but he leaned into the contact and placed his larger hand over hers. "You _are_ forgiving," she said. "You forgave me, remember?"

"The situations were completely different," he said. Then he looked down. "And I am in love with you."

She swallowed and blinked back tears. Hearing the soft-spoken words reassured her even more than his willingness to decimate a company's upper management on her behalf. Only this strange man would fearlessly wage war against another company for slighting her honor but turn hopelessly hesitant and shy when it came to declaring his feelings. She raised her free hand to wipe away the tears that were beginning to fall on her cheeks.

He pulled her close instead. "I had no idea you heard their words," he whispered into her hair, "That was my mistake, and I truly regret it. I feared if I said anything to them at the restaurant, if I made them leave, you would have wondered why and I didn't want you to know what they said."

She wrapped her arms around him. It was so annoyingly like him to try to protect the people he cared about by taking everything on his own shoulders. He hadn't wanted her to feel hurt, so he had tried to hide what they had said and done. Had she not heard them talking and confronted him, she doubted she would have ever learned the real reasoning behind his actions tonight. He wiped away her tears. "You need to rest," William said gently. "We can talk more in the morning."

Lizzie sniffed and pulled back to look at him. His blue eyes were focused on nothing but her. She smiled and nodded. Things weren't entirely worked out, but now she at least had hope for them, and she no longer doubted he did, in fact, love her. When he picked up the pillow and comforter, she bit her bottom lip.

"The hallway is probably pretty bright," she said softly, "It would be pretty hard to sleep with all those lights on..."

He looked at her curiously, not understanding her meaning.

She titled her head and smiled.

And then he smiled back.

She turned and headed into the bedroom. He followed. Just shy of the doorway, she stopped and threw an arm across the frame to bar his entry. "Uh-uh, mister," she said, wagging a finger at him, "you _still_ turned the first date we had in weeks into a business dinner. You're sleeping on the couch."

He ducked his head. "Fair enough."

The next morning, she awoke to the smell of him cooking her French toast for breakfast. There were flowers waiting for her on the kitchen room table.


End file.
